


apple in my throat

by bewitchingwind



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Asexual Relationship, Autism, Biblical Reinterpretation, Mental Health Issues, Other, Poetic, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Trans Crowley (Good Omens), Unconventional Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewitchingwind/pseuds/bewitchingwind
Summary: lilith, the snake. giver of the treacherous fruit of knowledge. first she was an angel, then wife to adam, and finally she was the demon named crowley. it's been a long, long journey in search of the things he gave up. yet someone was waiting at the end. trans & mental illness themes. 🍎
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	apple in my throat

**Author's Note:**

> be welcome. it seems the idea of crowley being raphael is popular. whatever. here's my little lilithverse.
> 
> I kind of went off in all sorts of directions, examining things from the ideas and the events associated with lilith, with the idea of incorporating them into the style of good omens. EDIT: I'm not jewish myself so I'm not really sure if it was honestly appropriate for me to write on her? however I'm leaving it up with this note about how I'm questioning that. i care for her deeply
> 
> I've seen the idea of aziraphale being a kind of patron saint of the queer in the eyes of humans, well. I tried to work in my own idea of crowley being a kind of patron saint of the ND/mentally ill, because of how I liked to imagine him being responsible for the myths of changelings in european folklore. it's fairly suggestive of crowley-like idiotic mischief.
> 
> lastly, I hope the irregular punctuation and pronouns is not jarring, everything is intentional. I only hope they reflect the chaotic world of this foolish demon as I see it.
> 
> oh and warnings for trans and trauma themes, which don't fit well into human narratives. there's just some uncomfortable suggestions because it's an uncomfortable story. but hold out until the end. <3
> 
> title is from a japanese song called chie no mi (the fruit of knowledge) by rurutia.
> 
> //There's a trembling apple deep in my throat  
> stuck without rotting away.  
> There's a trembling apple deep in my throat  
> until I'm reborn one day.//
> 
> now. let my weird mad tale.....begin!!

***

in the beginning, there was light.

but wings like vanes of night, to let the light in. accidental pinpricks of stars in them like eyes of truth. well, that is good too. let it fly.

i do fly, i wander. creating constellations with God. dancing among them. giving them a little bit of life each, then let it fly. that's good.

other angels sing the praises, march in chorus. i skirt the crowds. i like the edges. i know God is with me, but there is a strange restlessness with me too. there is no word yet for that. i shall call it 'loneliness'. i make a star that looks like one, but is two. from afar it looks lonely, but secretly there is another. i like that kind of thing.

God, angels and the stars. they exist to love God, and we do. but there is rumour of a new thing. hearing the rumour, i go to see. there is the new thing. it has been called 'the world'. heaven had no bounds, space goes on forever. it _had_ been a little bit lonely, endlessness.

God, why have you created this? we cry. but i like the colours. we watch as the stars turn to metals, to water. God moves them with hand to create curtains of sea. life has been born.

it's all a bit much. the seventh day is the best so far. very enjoyable. when i blink away the clouds of rest, a lot has happened.

God has created the crown of the world this morning, with tall walls the precipices of destiny. are we going to play a game now? it has been called the garden.

i watch the trees and the plants, who restlessly seek the light just as i do, and am delighted. i know this! finally, God sets the final piece into play. it is to be guardian of the garden. it is God's image - a tinier master. something seems strange. it awakens new feelings in us, too. some call it jealousy, it is called jealousy. they see he will have dominion, and are shocked and puzzled. but the Man has no wings with which to fly out, so i feel sorry for him. i see in his eyes the same shadows as my stars have - what did i call it again - loneliness. the other angels avoid the place in confusion and dismay, but i watch it. i watch God talk to him for a long time. i watch from the sky, and finally, God sees me watching. Lilith, i am so called. It is wished for man to have a companion.

angels who have the greatest most unique roles are closer to God. they have tasks, so they have names. so i am told it would be a great honour. but something feels strange. for to go down would be to go further from God. i feel a queer presentiment... but i too feel the jealousy. i too wish to speak with those trembling plants. all the other angels have visited the garden once to see what the fuss is about, but they did not show themselves to him, they left. i craft the first corporation with which to carry my soul down, that looks as like man, as close as i can, so that i am like him. it's good enough. the other angels watch me with a million cold eyes, singing in farewell, saying nothing. i go down and step upon the ground on feet and see with eyes. i face man and he realises he is not alone, that he too has a name. i am Adam, he says.

are you lonely? yes, i am lonely. i know that. i see you.

Will you go with this one?

and i go with him.  
  


God has called me Lilith, and Adam calls me wife. and this is our garden.

This is lilith to be your companion.

he compliments me on my wings, deems them beautiful. the spots of stars trapped in my wings, and his eyes shiny and covetous. that's right, he knows dominion. that's ok, i will help him learn.  
  
  


i mostly did stars, but i bring him my favourite of my animals for him to name, showing him my creations. do you like them? what are they?

he calls one <owl>, deems it wise. another <snake>, deems it sneaky. i hold out my other bird, not my favourite, too simple. "crow." he looks at my like wings coyly. "you." i blush, the first blush of the universe.

he is master of the plants. which grow in a thousand colours. we don't tell God, but because of the walls, some of the plants can't reach the light anymore. they grow little spots on their leaves. "grow better!" adam tells them, but i feel sorry for them. for God had already named them good. for i think they are doing their best.  
  


*

something wilts. this isn't working. we do not understand. we don't have a lot in common, you and me. >>you are not like me.<< i am trying to teach him. but he wants to teach me, too. he looks down on me. he is on top of me. i do not understand.  
  
  


>> **i shall not lie upon the ground.** <<  
  
  


he does not understand. he is not pleased. he was made to master. i cannot be mastered. for i was made to love.

and i do.

* * *

i understand, now. it was perfect before me. this was not supposed to exist. angels love, beasts have instinct. they're not to mix, God says. but i mixed. i did it wrong. i have become something else. i have no home.

so be it. let it be known, this special kind of love, un-angelic, un-beast. this special kind of damned, doomed feeling which has ruined me. let me name it. my last name. oh, let them never forget it! i shall call it falling. that is how it feels.

i leave the garden. i look down at my body. in there, i lived as a human, but no longer. for i feel the shame. for it is cold, thank you very much. i look up and draw down the dark sky around me for a robe. they will call me the night, now. i begin to walk down. there is nowhere else to go.

i take my first steps. i try not to stumble, try not to fall. i try to saunter. but it is not easy at first. it is not easy at all.  
  
  


*  
on the black midnight sands, i hear the voice. i thought nobody would be waiting for me, but there is someone. who had been looking up at the gates and waiting there.

//Come with me//, and i recognise that one's voice. Poor fool. That wasn't fair. _i fell for my own reasons_. Oh but don't we all? We share an Enemy. _he's not my enemy,_ thinking of adam. A shared interest, then.

You have nowhere else to go. Work for me. I'll give you a new garden. _i will go with you. but please, leave me here. i will be your demon on earth. but i beg you, leave me be_ , and at my cry he laughs, not unpleasantly, and withdraws his light-lost hand from my shoulder. but i continue to hear his voice, coming out of a cactus, between the grains of sand. i had hoped it would be quiet out here. i'd forgotten, there isn't actually anywhere you can be alone.  
  


i feel the fire. my wings are toasted jet black now. they have taken my stars from me.

*

i had left. only they want me to go back, make some trouble. i hate how easy it is. trouble's already there.  
  
  
  


God has given him a new wife.

this time, of dust and dirt like whence he came.

God, my wife has run away. God, i need a new wife. this time, God creates the being for the task. a body born from his body. God says this time not a man, but a Woman. i don't really understand. i watch her closely. i see her new type of body, and it is different. where he goes out, she goes in. she was created to complement him. they are perfectly suited. they fit, God says. she will obey him now. they are two from one. i think of the special stars i made. a pair. no, i didn't mean it like this. but it is too late now.

i know there is an angel now, atop the wall. guarding the secret way out. i made that way. i avoid him. _she_ sees me in the tree, a snake. adam would turn away from that, old news, but she looks upon me with curiosity. i am fascinated by those eyes, that have something different in them. something new.

i try to take her form. i like it better. i want to know why this makes a better wife. but it is not the same. it was not the corporation i started with. there wasn't this, then. i look out at her concealed from the tree, and try to speak to her in a voice that is soft like hers. she sees my long hair, and I realise that i seem like a mirror to her. i am glad. i do not want to be a Man for her. she sees something that we have in common, though she does not understand it. shall i teach her...? the secrets?

adam is the one who could really do with learning about good and evil, let's be honest.... but i am looking at eve now. this time could be different for us. i will not run away this time.

i am like you, i whisper to her. i am you. though she glances around her, she does not turn away. do you like this garden? are not my plants good? could they grow better? "Good - pleasing - desirable." they say she was bound by fate to obey. but i wonder. i realise that she has never heard anything but commandment. i decide to try something else.

i turn into myriad shapes, which delight her, and i see her longing, how she is trapped in one form, someone else's body, leftovers, someone's rib. why must such a feeble creature be so doted on by God, the angels and the demons cry. yet i am the only one to sit with her. i then see the true wildness in that round orb of a Woman's eye.

yes!! choose! hate him! love him! and turn that free eye upon me! be good! be bad! be the myriad!

only then can you be human! and dear, dear one, take me too!

she didn't know the beginning. she was born after action. she's making it now. and now, i beseech you - make it!

i look down on her from every tree as a snake, one to the next day to day, and i can tell that she is looking for me. i draw her away from adam, from tree to tree to the very center of the garden. i snake around the Tree of Life. this, not here in my time, was bloomed for adam and eve's world alone.

this was a tree i had planted. it was like when i had made that star system - a little bit of what i had been feeling and thinking and coming to terms with had gotten into it. you weren't supposed to do that, as an angel - they were only supposed to reflect God's feelings. that was God's right. but the Almighty had looked at my stars and animals and pronounced them good, too. to see my tree, full grown, brought the first tears to my eyes. could it be? could i still be forgiven? loved?

the fruit had grown.

this was a tree that i had carefully planted, before i left, as a farewell to my sweet world. it hadn't flowered in my time. i see its flowers, i see my fruit. it contains everything i learnt here - good, evil, questions. answers - i have called it Love - me.

i would go away with you. don't you want to know? it's not too late. i can show her the truth, and i can take her to heaven and show her to everybody. they can be like us, i'll say.

"if i take that, i will die," says eve. "i heard that somewhere." and lilith doesn't know what death is yet, no-one does, but it doesn't sound fair, so it can't be right.

and...it doesn't sound good. what she has been told of my dear fruit. my very last creation has not been deemed good, at all. oh, not at all. not very subtle, huh! something breaks and cracks and splinters in me, and i feel a passion, i feel what lucifer's hot eyes look like. i feel the fury.

is that fair? i ask, trying to keep my voice calm, which quavers, which sounds like the snake's hiss. and we both say, "it is not fair."

but, but, but if it were so, if my fruit is death why is it here? why am i here? even now, God's eyes are in the stars, in the eyelets of the branches of the trees. someone listens. it is not over. the tree has not been put on a high mountain, nor the moon. it is a trial. i do not understand why there has to be a trial. "if they find out i've fraternised with you..." but why are you not allowed to take my fruit? it's not right. i'm going to have a word with the Almighty, and then the Almighty will fix it.

i can still save them. hell said, go make some trouble. find us the keys to the garden. i would sooner give these ones the keys to heaven. i pity them. if they know, it will not end the same way. let her not lie on the ground. i will give her more than dust. why must they too be doomed? they are still God's children. you will learn what we know, and live forever. (i had forgotten that this one's very body was of dust, that she was of the earth.) i would have stayed down in the dirt with adam, but this one i would take to heaven. come away with me. i'll take you there. eve does not know what i mean. she is beautiful. don't you want to know?

i whisper softly my sweetest voice... take it. take me.

later, eve will cry that the snake tricked her, adam will cry that she was created only to obey, it was inevitable, she was weak, she was duped. but lilith knows differently. i saw the woman's eyes. it was the first true act. she was free. and it was i who was enchanted.

eve kisses it, takes it. she is gentle. she is voracious. i am suddenly bashful, and hide shyly in the eaves of the tree. i hear her joyous laughter and wonder at the sweetness of the meal. she has taken the fruit of my body gladly into hers. and it is good. when I emerge from my satisfied slumber, i hear thunder in the sky, the first thunder. she has shared it with adam.

"that was not for you," i hiss, and the apple gets stuck in his throat. it will never leave man. but i can believe that you would take it so easily. you are not curious. you are just hungry.  
  
  


humans made something new, that of freedom.

when they take it, they realise many things. lilith got her wish, adam finally felt shame. they have learnt a little of what it is like to fall. but eve did not fall towards me. once she had tasted the fruit called Love, she had shared what she found with adam. she had been made for him.  
that went down wrong, i laugh. this isn't how it was meant to happen, i cry.

now, eve shall be under his dominion forever, for if she is left alone, they say she will seek me. i cursed her to heed him. i cursed her to love him.  
i did not mean to.

(And that one, for your crime, your golden eyes to yellow, and the mark of your crime upon your face so all will recognise you. Your hair brown to red, wreathed in hell fire, you shall lose your legs. Wily serpent, now you shall crawl the earth on your belly. <<you shall lie upon the ground.>>)  
  
  


they must join like animals, now. but why did you make it so they fit together so perfectly? oh. oh, i see. their union will produce <<fruit>>. (she had my fruit, first.) his wife is to bear it. (i was wife, first.)

somehow, i know that adam knows i am watching.  
  
  


they find the way out of the garden. they find my way out. they are exiled. they run away. they are terrified. they are glad. i don't watch them go. i don't need to. i see myself in you. n-no, not in you like adam was. i am you. i..........

**no**. not like this - i crawl up the wall. i must see them off.

i, "she", that one called lilith, did this. it is not their fault. Love from a (lost) angel, Instinct from the animals. what a mess. not of heaven or hell, with no place in paradise. she sees that they are their own creature now. they set off. there is one consolation. the core, as once from Woman to Man, shall spread as seeds from man to woman. they will sow them and it will pass down and bloom in a million different colours. they will die, but they will not lose what lilith learnt. shamefully they adorn themselves, but the jewel at his throat is HERS.

she crawls up the wall. the angel is there. she thinks he might have a sword or something. well, no matter. God, adam, eve, they have all abandoned her. she has no pride. i have given them everything. i have nothing to lose! i wandered into the desert, i have no home, i have not been sheltered. i'll lay my scales down here.

lilith is dying anyway. and i know i can't die like them, but i feel it. i wanted to be like her, like woman, but it's too painful for now. i don't want to die as her. i step out of the shed snake skin of my heart. right now, i want to be like... him. he, upon the wall right here, pure as Man never will be again. he still has the light in his eyes. i miss that. i seek his company.

i will crawl at your feet.

i will be crawly.  
  


he, crawly, likes that they have the same kind of corporation, the original. it doesn't fit, but it matches. though reality has shifted to include that change to man's image - the apple. crawly has the apple now, too. his throat is heavy. the angel is very pretty.

he doesn't smite him. the angel thinks he's just some random snakey demon who did it. so, the details have been covered up. lilith has been erased from the records. makes you wonder what god's really planning. (d'you ever think like that? are you like me? are you like them? i saw you watching, too.)

crawly makes him laugh. there is no word for that yet. doesn't sound like celestial harmony. sounds better. i thought angels couldn't laugh. what is your game? why are you here? the angel looks like he's thinking the same thing. why would you come to me?

i wouldn't mind if it was you to deal the final blow, with that sword of yours.

oh. you cannot. it's gone. >>you too gave yourself away to them<<. oh. i feel it again. no, no, no..... crawly has slithered all over looking for shelter, from here to there, they have all abandoned him. he cannot do this. not again. i have to stop. i cannot move closer. even though they want me to cause trouble, i will stand from here. i know my place. even though right now i... but suddenly, God lets loose the firmaments. to wash away the sin in purifying waters. ah, so it's time. you could tell, then? just now? what i was feeling, yet again?

crawly would have let it wash himself away. yet he is shadowed, suddenly. thoughtlessly, distractedly, easily, the angel has taken him in. <<he is sheltered.>> all the heavens and the hells strain to watch in excitement, in dismay. he crawls closer. it's happening to him again and it's heavy this time. he's so thirsty. he could drink this water up. _but_ _i yearn for the shelter._ crawls closer to the dry rays of light. the angel just gazes off somewhere. the man and the woman are almost out of sight. his heart crawls and coils and rings like a gong. he takes a deep breath for the next verse. like it's all really starting now.

oh dear, says heaven. oh dear, says hell, oh dear says crawly. <<you're really in for it now.>>  
  


it's ridiculous. it has to end here. God's joke. eden is over. do the humans still speak to God? is it just him?

doomed. the angels too have abandoned them. demons laugh about them. they have no use as far as even hell can see. they aren't even expected to survive - they are worthless. unclean, dying, dusty creatures. but crawly follows them.

yes, be like the vulture! the flies! dark voices hiss in delight. it is over, other voices seem to cry. the humans have not stopped walking. can they hear God? is it just him?

no, there is one other. his angel. one other who still believes. somewhere. it is not over.  
  


he himself cannot _help_ but follow them. you can't give up now, hell says, we can still ruin them. you can't give up now, that angel seemed to say. crawly would have abandoned them too, it is so wretchedly painful, if only not something new had been born in him, high up on that wall. a hope. still, watching over them go, wandering the desolate deserts blindly towards truth, revives all the old pains too. you cannot escape God's judgement. hope is fake.

yes, i'll bury this feeling he gave me. angels can sense it - so i'll hide it.

it hurts too much.

i can't keep asking that same question.

they are so easily tired, drawn to sleep. and how helpless in sleep. he sees the point of this now, God's new little game, as the night beasts come. those creatures once friends, now enemies. the vulture, the lion. (not his ideas.) and he is one of them. they are doomed. he hisses at god in a rave, witnessing that. is this really the great plan? something could happen to them. i'm saying i could kill them!! but just as he thinks that, the sword glints under the desert moon. it is lain by eve's side. he thinks and feels so many nameless things looking upon them. i am of these ones more than any other - they too crawl over the world, the lowborn. humans are corrupt now too, ruined. nobody watches over them. the sword burns on. yes, there is one other. it had been eve the angel gave it to, not adam. not that one.

i wish i had had a sword.  
  
  


<<Go after them>>. i cannot help it. to follow them, frighten them, is my work, and i do follow them. i have nowhere else to go. the harvest comes. it happens like as for the beasts, but she hurts. (i feel that pain, my belly is sore, too.)

eve looks at the child with yet newer eyes. i know mine are covetous. i cannot help it. it should be mine, i want it to be mine, i tried. i hate it, i love it. i coil too close, desperate to see, and they cry, "it will get our baby! it's she, the woman-thief, the baby-thief!" i feel the shame, the fury, the escape. i must crawl away, but i am fast. i go too fast for them.

eve gives it her milk, like a wolf or an otter. adam teaches it to obey him. it's true. i wouldn't have been able to help with those things.  
  


so i just watch over it.

they have no time to watch it themselves, later. he is busy being a man, she a woman. they keep going with it. now there is another. go forth, and multiply. it is not hard to get cain alone. yes, i steal up to him.

when he was small, and his tears and cries angered them, crawly sang secret hymns in his ear. she, crawly, calls that a 'lullaby'. now cain's questions anger them, for they remember what questions brought them. children ask so many questions. she wants to hate him too, but she likes him.

he does not recoil from her. he remembers her voice. he seeks her. do you have a mother and a father? i wish i didn't. (me too.) i wish i was my own creature. (i know.)

why must we obey? why is it not enough to offer? why is my offering not good? why does he like her better than me? why am i not enough?

i forget whose voice was whose. i think i did wrong.

it does not go how she thought it would. eve cries great droplets. really big. the blood goes back to the earth and it swallows it. and they, too, die. they will never return ever, so they say. and it all keeps happening.

destruction. see it, you're salt. tower. (adam had seen her wings, once. she had realised that humans would rather like wings. they want to return to the heavens.) she feels the fury each time heaven strikes, her hair wild serpentine coils. you abandoned me, but why must you abandon them?

and each time, she steals a child. she steals children. they were right. i could not save cain, i will save this one. i could not save this one, i will save that one. i will take them all with me. we shall not drown or burn. i can do it this time. but no matter what, they will suffer and die one day anyway. for i was not created with the power of life. for i was not a good wife.  
  


time passes, he begins to have time to relax after all his hard work. he starts getting lazy. but back 'home' is watching those children, too. humanity does a lot of things that immortal beings can't, but we can still get ideas from them. they teach, like that. see what i showed them? crawly thinks desperately, but they are not interested in his failed experiences. there are not enough angels falling. they will never make ends meet. there must be a way to make young demons, to fill the numbers. and they will hate God all the more for not being accepted by God.

his own personal musings on this are broken rudely one day. I must find out how to create a child. Yes, the antithesis of light, the age-old voice hums distractedly in crawly's ear as if he's his secretary. I will lend you some of my power. For now, develop on the idea. err.... with you? he stares into thin air with alarm and confusion. Don't be obscene. Beelzebub has a devil put aside for you.... Samael, I think. See them about it.

one of the early fallen, samael has barely any idea of what the human way is, which makes the task a little less awkward. in fact, they don't even have a human corporation, never having had any personal interest in interacting with humanity. he doesn't really know where to look. each set of eyes is looking somewhere else. the voice echoes in his head. LILITH, they churn. he doesn't bother correcting them. WHAT MUST BE DONE. his mind races. well, with a single miracle, a whole new immortal being can't be created by us. only an incredibly powerful angel, like lucifer, would be able to do that. but if there's two of them, trying the exact same thing at the very same time... LET US BEGIN.

"wa- wait, wait won't you, i'm not ready yet!! aren't we supposed to, um..." get in the mood? he thinks about eve and adam, which makes him feel all itchy. horrified, he tries to imagine specifically how it all starts. they need to recreate that feeling of... togetherness. it usually begins with a... ah, yeah, samael doesn't actually have a mouth. SNAP TOGETHER. crawly nearly jumps out of his corporation. DO AS I. they extend a black feathered and clawed hand from amid the tangle of spinning wings. oh, right! crawly gets into a comfortable position, lifts his own hand and... snap! the twin miracles cause something to poof into existence between them, a tiny eel-like creature which blinks, looks up at them in alarm and distaste, and promptly glides away. "uh, ok. that was kind of... small. try again?" he thinks he hears a sigh from his companion. this could be a long night. this time, a sort of owl happens, which lets out a tiny belch of flame and lands fluffily on the ground. they both stare at it, uncertain as to what possible use this delightful little freak could be to their master. suddenly, it emerges grotesquely into a second form, so that the owl is actually sitting on the head of a gangly little demon child thing.

"oh! well, that's something," crawly mumbles, unsure how he is supposed to feel about all this. A LITTLE MIRACLE, samael supplies, and crawly watches with a grin as the demon spawn flies up and sits somewhere in the region of their feathery shoulder. maybe he can get a snake one going. they keep at it until the tons of little things start fighting among themselves. he supposes they're lucifer's spawn really, since he lent him the creative power, but he's kind of attached to them. the power is already fading away.

"what a shame i have to go back to earth," he says fondly as a snake-hatted little monster starts trying to eat his foot. YOU MUST DESTROY THOSE HUMANS. THIS IS WHAT MATTERS. his heart sinks, but it's kind of a nice sentiment really. only... I SHALL TAKE CARE OF THEM. "right," he says, smiling as he pulls the snakey bastard off his ear and gingerly deposits it on samael's wheel. he'd like to see what that will entail. "take care, all!" he salutes them languidly and hurtles away back to earth. he got no response to that last bit. he supposes it wasn't a very demonic thing to say.  
  


now the task of getting that little episode out of his head, which isn't hard, as humanity is getting along so much less smoothly. they carry on through generations, but naturally, spontaneously. it only seems more terrifying now.

he watches them for a long age. his work is to watch them. to find out the worst, most ruinous corners of them. he wanders the edges, the walls, can see everything from there. he sees them die, sees them live. take all kinds of actions.

they do all the things adam and eve did, even more, in the dirt. going into eachother, trying to find the deep things, somewhere fertile to plant seeds, whatever, he sure gets sick of it. he doesn't look away. they are looking for the truth. they are looking for the apple. they are looking for MORE. demons know it and toy with it coldly, lead them by the chain, and they come easily, befouling commandment time and again. //Not like that sir, what about this? And with him?//

but he never had any taste for that. he didn't understand it. wasn't of his time. he wanders closer looking for the truth, too. for God's word. for it's natural, it's said. they were created to do this. for eve was born from a rib. they want to fill eachother up and be as close as possible. to be one again.

(but >>she<< had been one already.

I do not want to lie like that. I do not want to lie upon the ground. god had listened well. snake lost her limbs. your curse shall be to lie upon the ground.)

so like a snake, she - he - someone - recoils.

I do not understand any of this.

dear god, I'd like to walk again.  
  


this hurts.  
  
  
  
  
  


the very human children that happen, she loves. and the animals, the wild innocent things. she's been developing an idea based on her work with samael, and from all she has learnt of humanity while walking amongst them. (You shall crawl as the snake, and all will know you. Women will hate you, children fear you, men will kill you.) but she shields her eyes, wears their clothes. God was wrong there. they trust her with their children, for she sings lullabies and makes them laugh. pregnant women seek her aid.

humanity has indeed become too corrupted, roiling in depravity. but God won't destroy them, it is just a test. i know their wives. if i could tempt their little ones before they're born, i could alter humanity. i could help them to be more curious, more creative. human society is very wretched. only i, called now the mother of demons, can help. she begins to weave little miracles in their developing minds, ever so carefully. makes ones just a little less normal. they will thrive at the old work, looking after the beasts, memorising things.

hell approves of her little project because of the chaotic potential. sometimes she does get it a bit wrong, and people have visions, compulsions, realise there is more to reality than what is in front of them. they become adults who do not understand or follow the arbitrary rules, for they have a little bit of her in them. know too much. it's ok. she loves them yet more this way. as long as they have other humans to look after them, there will be no problem. and it will pass down to their children, like last time. just give us time.

but God's a bit tetchy. please, not the kids. i secretly stow away as many as i can. //Yes, save them, the more are saved, the more can be corrupted.// hell is happy. God is happy. but he, these, suffer. i didn't realise you'd throw out the babies with the bathwater.

we suffer.

*

"I forgive you, child."

there is another, she's lost it again. God's fated child. they sang songs and gave him gifts. she hides amongst the hopeless, the fallen. he finds her and confused, she shares much of her heart with him. probably too much. she does not have any apples left to give, but she pities him. he pities her. he strokes her hair and tells her this is not her fault. she has gotten lost, oh yes, very lost. she believes him. he promises he will exorcise the demon from her. she tells him to go ahead. he is a man, like her adam, but he pities her, like her eve. she is very wild and tired now. she tells him please.

i could live by their side again - she thinks wildly - i could do it again. i could do it, for this one. i feel safe being a woman, for him. he says he is god's son and so am i. he promises me holy water. i am too old to be afraid, i want it. i am thirsty.

he is different, this one, the one. God will surely listen now. will speak to us now, will save us. it's gone on long enough. i see the sin, i feel the demon, i want it out.

we are sorry. please do not forsake us.

i am sorry.

  
  


she watches the end from afar. no, actually, i do not understand humans after all. i do not understand my own love. i will not do this again. the blood goes back into the earth and it swallows it. again. i die, too. i too, have died. i watch the blood, i watch the flesh. i feel my dead skin. i'm going to cut off this hair of mine he loved so much, the achingly kind touch still burns me. hair is dead. the human i played at dies too, i step out again, and i am a worthless demon once more. i cannot do this again. i will not crawl around your feet anymore. it hurts. oh god, your _son_ , it hurt so much.

an angel is there too, of course. you - i forgot - so it is you, the one who is like me. a little. that's nice. take a good look. this is where i've been. i will not do this again, so don't get any ideas. one more time really would be the end of me. no, don't look at me - i remember you now. i have to stop. i can't crawl anymore. i will not squirm at your feet anymore. why am I still squirming? well, you were a snake.

the angel asks my name, now. presides over the resurrection. the born-again. fine. witness it. i wear the black of mourning, i taught them that. i think of the black wings. i've had them put away a long time. crow, someone called me once. (wife.) can't remember who. "Crowley."  
  


*  
  


he sees him again, sometimes. what an interesting dynamic.

i don't trust you. i know you're just like the rest. we're supposed to be enemies, don't look so pleased to see me. once, he considers it. just once. you know, i could tempt you. i could.

he wouldn't even be commended for it. it would hardly turn the tides of power. one angel, it wouldn't matter to them. is this what it feels like to have power? is this how adam felt? no... there's something else, something quite else. what?

sometimes he wonders if the angel is thinking about what, too. but he's busy, now. things aren't going well. they call his children changelings, now. people are suspicious of their children, rulers are suspicious of their tempters. work today went abysmally. what'd be the point in trying here anyway. he's just not that good at tempting people directly. this will never work.

he's about finished hanging around him. he's about finished with everything altogether. i'm hungry for the end. "oh, well let me tempt you...!" oh. oh, my. it's still their language. something sparkles in his awkward eye. i forgot. you're kinda special. yes, this world can still be interesting. you're trying too. crumbs from you are to me a feast. i'm in!

*

"humans are so lovely, aren't they?"

"humans are so clever. I do so admire them."

that's what i've been saying this whole time. i look at the crooks in his chin when he laughs, around his twinkling eyes. when we are apart, i almost forget because it's so bleak, but once together again, my heart sinks. low, low. i'm falling again. i am always falling.

he's so clever, so easy. he's making the best of things. and he enjoys it. he gorges on this world. (eden was mine, heaven was god's, but earth is aziraphale's. i'm just catching up. i don't want to go too fast cause i wanna see it all. i've slowed to a crawl again. he didn't need to take the garden with him. his feet bleed light where he walks. where his feathers scrape the ground. bastard.)

wanderer, wanderer. it'll be wonderful when we get where we're going, won't it? he seems to say. though you know dear, i like it where we are. still, it's all going to be lovely. isn't it? o-oh, you're still a demon then? fool! angel! for i have wandered, and it was not enough. there was nowhere to lay me down. there's nowhere better to go. no-one is waiting. i'm right here.

i want you to apologise to me, God. i want adam to. i gave him the will to. and you struck him down first. he walked away. look, i've started talking to an angel instead. he has me now. you bid me crawl, but i want to.

crowley loves how he laughs. adam had had no sense of humour. hadn't really gotten the memo. bit early. mind, no-one in hell has yet, either. this one's always unsure of whether he should really be laughing or not, so it escapes him in a shocked puff, a delighted frown. ooh, crowley finds that uncertainty irresistable. (it reminds him of eve. it reminds him of no-one.)

at first, he'll be honest, it was the light. i'll crawl beneath it, under your legs. but now it's definitely the laughter that he comes back for. he can't help it. he is charmed off his belly, to look up at the cast off rays, to bathe his shameful body in the healing links of sun. at least don't scorn what you see. oh, not that. laugh at me. sing that song to me.

*

poles apart, he begins to do anything to bathe in it. he slithers after him around the world to catch his own tail. he owes him his allegiance, though he cannot say it yet, it should not be, but it is. and pristine cherub teases me closer, knows i'll come! wretched, wretched soul. are you playing with me?

to keep him here, to save him from embarrassment. that's it. that would be the worst thing. i knows what it feels like because i was the first embarrassment. angels don't actually feel that. but i saw right away that this one could. it's not natural, but it is so. earth teaches you a lot. what else could that angel learn here? the demon turns his eyes away, shy.

they have made an arrangement, just them alone. imagine if we had our own side. no-one else is listening, they don't care! if we're quiet, quiet. he knows better now. keep it shadowed, safe. don't reveal your face from between the fronds of leaves. don't take my fruit, just stroke your fingers delicately between the petals. that's it.

i never had the heart much for messing humanity up, they were already handicapped, i knew them. i like them, the lowborn, the children. but it's different now. a new conversation has started, that has nothing to do with God. if anything, God has to listen. listen well. the angel takes one step, he follows. they cancel eachother out, play shadows on each others' walls, i set the fire, he puts it out. with that disapproving mouth, those damned eyes. he blesses the land with plenty, crowley opens the floodgate and ruins it all. dances away with sneering mouth, delighted laugh. poised for the next burl. dance! they're puppets on god's strings, straining against their bonds. what an opera, what a spectacle. and it's all played out in secret, just the three of them, including God between them. no - just the two. me and you. one day, the fire's going to kindle up and spit and bring down the house. for i know fire. i smell smoke. i know what you smell like.

*

help eachother out, share the burden. a wing for shelter here, a carriage escort home there. is this eternity? my roads go on forever, go too slow. he still doesn't realise the answers. he did not inherit my forbidden gift of knowledge.

just "oh I can't say that," or "oh I couldn't possibly do that" as he reaches for another decadence, laughs scandalously at a joke he shouldn't, leaking wine mood. i soak it up, strain toward the light, balm, nutrition. i love him like this.

i can almost feel God on my shoulder, silently looking on too - though if i look, there's no-one there. you seeing this? i laugh to that empty audience. look at this beautiful soul. he doesn't know what he's doing to me. i love him like this. why wouldn't you? i don't understand you. i don't understand you.

*

(i haven't the heart to tell him the Truth. i don't give anyone that anymore. will he get there in time? if he ever does, i'll ask him. i'll make this one last bet with God. we're getting to the end of the conversation now. they say the end is coming, they always have. he'll probably never get here in time. it's a thorny path. i would rather he didn't. the demonic plan is in the works down in Hell. they keep asking him how he managed to make new demons, to share the sinful knowledge. what are they gonna do, make some sort of antichrist son of satan one day? he'll have to deliver the baby, if it ever happens.

i don't really mind, only i'd like to stay here with him a lot longer. it's just, sometimes he looks at me in a certain way. he does. i'm watching him closely, you know. i can't look away. i'm watching that road for stones. i go fast, so i can get rid of the stones. take your time. you see a trap, i'll give you my knee, use me. step over. it's a rough road. i'm the one coiled around you, but you're the one strangling me. ah, do it gently. and you do. but it's all starting to hurt anyway.

>>because they know.<< you're distracting me. you're scaring me. i hear the voices again, the unholy. (parents watch for kids who speak in strange ways, hear weird things, his changelings, his darlings. it's gone wrong. but as long as he's here, my very best - my friend. please, give me some insurance, help me. we have a lot in common, you and me.) Crowley, Crowley. What are you doing? Do you think you're prepared for what's to come? You're the real changeling. Do you think you're not being watched?

fraternising, you could call it. and you do. (it was her fault. she fraternised with a serpent!) i can tell you, i have others, i have others to fraternise with!! there have been others you know! once! strange, vicious feelings. it was true. they probably shouldn't have gotten into that fruit of knowledge after all. this love is shit. good came with evil, love with pain. just why did he get entangled into this wretched business? why is he such an absolute and unrepentant idiot? and why, oh why will you not turn and look upon me writhing in the dirt?? i won't ask for help again. i won't ask for a thing!

it's just too much. everyone just please, i am literally begging you, shut up. and i want to shut up too.

*

he doesn't wake well rested. it's different, now. now he _dreams_. that was absolutely not one of his ideas. never used to happen. he hasn't had a good sleep since the 7th day.

and now, fire is falling from the sky, directly on this city. that can't be a coincidence. it's what woke him up. was this his idea again? he rubs the sleep from his eyes. nah.

something awful always happens when he's out like that. he made a mistake. he looks out over the lands for signs of his children, and balks.

with society industrialising, the remnants of his annoying little darlings have indeed passed down, but such children have no place away from the fields, the farms and mills. in society, they struggle. they fall. he fucked up.

no more. he's not getting back into that. below were never pleased with him throwing up his little project... and now there are a hundred more fully grown demons too, nipping at his heels but who don't actually know who he is. thanks, samael. Crowley, is the familiar hiss. _give me a chance to get dressed, no house-calls. erm, so do you like my new flat?_ Oh, you've really made a mess of things now. This is not over.

he goes off the rails trying to find it now, at any cost, fixes his eye on it, places his hopes on it, insurance, that holiest of draughts. for he is honestly terrified. he yearns dearly to see the angel. but he can't ask him for anything at all anymore. he wants to save him, give him books and lifts home, but not risk him.

*

water - purifying, terrible draught. once, i drank this from the river of fate that ran through my garden. how well it tasted then. the paradisal waters that grew my fruit. the angel has been looking into his eyes all this time, too, not liked the desolation he's seen. (don't be stupid, that's not what i want it for.) but crowley does look at it for a long time once he has it. that he does. annihilation. even eve believed him, that she would turn into an angel too at the End, would go higher. now humans say, you'll meet your loved one when it happens, and be with them forever. go through the pearly gates. he's gone the other way. he wishes he could be like them. he just wants to be safe. he remembers the cross, the son. the angel. mouth a complicated line, he puts the treacherous concoction away for now. safe.

*

would he forgive me for that, if i did? neither of them ever says i forgive you. only God is supposed to forgive, and this is not allowed, it is not good. but it is heard. let me back in. i did wrong. we should sometimes. to tell the good from the bad. like an angel. like a mortal. it is our birthright to trouble like this. to get it wrong. to keep going. oh, let us keep going.

the worst things he says, he can barely forgive. "you're not awful, you're such a dear. (there's still hope.)" if you don't know i'm repulsive, it's not true. the angel just smiles calmly at his disgusted reactions, eyes shining with a thousand mirrors.

crowley knows what to do now. he orbits him, circles him. surrounds him with coil after coil. i'll keep watch this time. i know what went wrong last time. i wasn't keeping an eye above. i won't touch him, won't quite near him. won't give him too much. keep talking to me.

*

"I love what they do. I love what I see from them. of course. I am destined to love them.

but I've always thought there was a special kind of love that humans made themselves. it's in the songs, the stories. you know how much I read. it's everywhere they go. it's very important to them. they seek it keenly. only I alone feel - that is to say, only I see it, of the angels.

no, well, they see it. it's plain. but angels surmise, that it is a base kind of emotion, as it does not exist in angels at the beginning, so its roots are not in the Lord. that its roots are in Lust. sin. but I, I don't think that. crowley, I don't."

it's this kind of time, just a little drink, enough for the floodgates to fall, not enough to be ridiculous and they get onto dolphin talk, just enough that he starts to relax on what is Okay to say, starts to widen the boundaries, stretch his muscles, his wings. he is pursuing the truth, so it does not feel wrong, after all. it is not wrong. it is so wrong. "have you noticed it? what do you think?" he asks quietly, insistently. cautiously and, and nervously. ohhhhh damn it.

crowley cannot move. he jerks his head, rubs his throat, squints his eyes. too bright. covers them. aziraphale smiles sadly, mischievously, desperately, resignedly. "silly of me. not like we're humans, anyway. but it's just a thought. about them." they don't speak much more that evening. but they don't move away, either. "I'm glad you're here. I missed this. dearly."

it is gentle at times, this flood. i was born to protect you.

*

he doesn't think about it anymore. this is fine. this is enough. i'm fine. i can't, so that's that. it's good that he's an angel. he could never survive down there with the fallen. he doesn't even know what i'm thinking. and i don't. (he hears a line on telly one day. chat show. 'how to get him to >>f a l l<< for you!' he throws up in the toilet. this can't go on.)  
  
  
  


there's whispers of a child. THE child. he's not interested. he's done with children. "get crowley to do it, it'll be good for a laugh, the useless bastard has experience, you know who he was" the child-thief, the master of changelings, crowley. it's beelzebub and the big one who can really stare him down, keep him on the edge of submission, with the key to the chains. >> **they know who she was.** << he has no choice.

*

he hands it over, they want him to do more. i can't, i can't, not that. they think it's hilarious, all his boasts about raising children and influencing them towards doing sinful things like putting the governments into debt with disability benefits claims. but it's just too cruel. not again. not alone. he'll muck it up and armageddon will genuinely happen. he doesn't have enough hope left. he remembers when it was easier, when he actually did something with his useless arse, with samael. when he thought, he might have someone on his side, to share the burden, keep him from messing any plan up.

his eyes stray to his muted tv. he has rubbish talk shows on a lot about societal problems to give him ideas. he likes specifically annoying the middle-aged men on there complaining about young people by demonically influencing the local youth, thereby creating a domino effect of intergenerational chaos which will then lead to the downfall of modern society. eventually. anyway, point is, there's some old bag raving about how children need two parents. he doesn't quite like the tone, but he gazes doey-eyed at the interview of two men trying to adopt a child.

imagine, if, just imagine. if he had help. good help. someone to provide the sickly sweet meaning of life stuff for the kid while he makes nasty things happen for anyone who ever wrongs him. he'll just be normal - harmless. how his rich american parents will never be there for him, so they'll be like his real parents. it'd be like he'd be ours. he hitches an unnecessary breath that feels keenly necessary. ours. he fights back the panic, the glory. the confusion. he thinks of dumb stuff he hasn't thought of in centuries. cain, lulled to sleep in her uneasy arms. how it felt like being forgiven. getting it wrong. seeing the two real parents getting it right with seth 'cause they were used to it by then, had experience, were good parents, no ruinous snake around this time. he snips away tears, angrily and desperately. this is ridiculous. he's an idiot.

but i have experience now, too.

i need you.

"i have a plan - we can do something."

*

"you don't understand my position," aziraphale moans, ringing his hands, looks at him with force. it's the third evening of convincing. he doesn't normally have this much precious time with him. "I can't see you, I can't help you, this has to stop, just give me a while."  
"uh, there isn't a while! there's no time. they won't find out. it's crucial. and even if they did, it's just me, thwarting me, you won't Fall." he sneers impatiently. as if you would. hmm, the conversation may be getting a little out of safe bounds. not like this bastard ever knows what he's really saying. "believe me, I don't want you to! not on my behalf, not for _me_."  
he snaps, eyes bright and wild. "I already have." pushing him aside, storming away, fleeing. well, that was dramatic. (and this is your bookshop, prat.) crowley's heart rattles away. a feeling of doom. the gong again. the death knell. shit.

*

mary, anthony, ashtoreth. it's not always been a death. just a shadow.

he's not died. it's not that he's not crowley anymore. she's just this, too. desperate times call for the old ways, the myriad shapes. she had forgotten that it doesn't have to feel like the end of the world to tilt the mirror and change back and forth - oh. yeah, never mind. it actually will be that if she doesn't do this right. i was the first to sing to a child. and this time, >>he's<< here. this is a bit silly - she's out of practice - she can't do it - but she likes this child. he's like all the others. it gets too fun, feels like a game again, i'll sow the bad, you the good. balance me. coax the flowers, touch them. no unflattering disguise fools me...

i want them to see this is how. good and bad. there's only heaven because of hell. you need choices to make a choice. what will you do? this kid's exactly like any other kid, annoying, pure. like the first one. it keeps bringing back a lot of memories. she doesn't hate it. choose, my darling. this is your grand, beautiful, ugly stage. for now, sleep sweetly.

we have it all in hand.

but things start to get a little bit off the rails, don't they. he's restless. the fated day of power approaches. (what does it feel like to get to grow, to receive power once you're ready for it?) he cuts his hair in a mad panic one day when he starts to hear hell's bells in his ears. he did this once, before. when it seemed like it was all over. he buries the strands in a flowerpot. burns them. sacrifice. time to mess shit up. >> _i told you before, i don't take it lying down._ <<

it's just, was this a good idea? too normal. for it was the normal who killed him, my dear, foolish messiah. is there really hope? he can't concentrate with >>him<< around so much. he starts to test him, too.

you know, you could just kill him. (i could just kill them. this desert is unforgiving, though they have a flaming sword.) you could do that. will you?

what will you do? he has fixed him with his serpent's eye all through history. what will you do when you start getting pushed? when you feel the smoke tickling your feet? what will you do?

i'm very curious.

*

mistake. of course that's the real antichrist's name - why not? bastards. you know, you know, we should probably jump ship. we could. no? it's ok. let it be this way. we'll dance and dance, and i'll wait to hear you say yes. don't say it right away, think about it first, realise you want it. say you were tricked by a snake. but i'll know the truth, that's enough for me. that's enough, that is enough for me. but he's dove with a sprig - there's dry land up ahead, just a bit longer, not yet, not yet.

not anymore. it's over. (i can't.)  
right. well then. (fine by me.)  
>>you don't understand.<< they're after us. it's too late. but it's ok, it's ok. i know how it hurts to say no. >> **i made up "no"**.<< _i_ won't throw you out of paradise. it's just, you know, paradise is burning. damned if we do damned if we don't. and i do, so please, let us go now. once, i had nothing more to lose, and i looked up at you on the wall. there's more. there's always the sky above the wall. stars! stars! leaving them was my mistake. believe me. trust me. let's GO.

please. you see? we're in real danger. it's over. i forgive you? angelic proclament. no! that's not it!! it will not save us!! you're too slow. i'm ahead of such. i would be free even from that! i'm getting my things. (come! join me! catch up to me! i'm not as fast as you think. i'm only a little way ahead. i'll wait right here. come!)

danger. holy water really works, huh? he left his first true home behind, once. now, he will not abandon it again. his home has white feathers. and each of us has an apple. i could not swallow mine.

there'll be hell to pay for this. and damn it, i'm hell! there's going to be fire for them. he's dealt the final blow. please, I'm still here. hold on. I'm on my way.  
  
  


>> **Do not forget, lilith, crowley, fool. You already left paradise and you walked into my fire once. You chose this road.** <<  
  


he remembers the first time he felt the fire. this was the feeling, that he can't see the light anymore. dust - ash. end. he realises this world had never been a discussion between him and god at all. it was with another. the conversation flowed here like wine, and i had things to say. and now, finally, he truly does hear nothing. every one of you is a bastard and i hate you all.

((no, it is not so. they took my body, but I'm still with you. can you hear me? can you hear me?)) of course.

he is going to run, but aziraphale takes his hand. no, we shall stay. no, I shall protect these people too. so, they're still on the wall. it's just been them, them. all along, they were the only two, the only ones trying. the only ones at all. >>do something!<< for you, i will!

he's never taken on someone else's skin before. it bears him up. comfy.

they take him first. it was always his plan. i'll be on the edges, on your back. i can protect you from here. he abandoned the garden, watched the fires from afar, the many types of fire.

this time, he's committed.

i'll be the first.

to heaven. but where are the stars? i could just stay here forever. i couldn't. i could at least argue his part. they think i am him. they think i am an angel. i'm finally going home. but he doesn't recognise heaven. it has been so long. did it look like this? it doesn't feel like home. oh, that's right. his home was eden. >>his home no longer exists<<. he is free.

he realises: i do not want to be here. god, i want him. god, you don't deserve him. he finally spits the fire. i'll take the flames. he never walked out of heaven but this time, last time he flew. he's not like lucifer. he can't hate it. but he'll never look back. if my one's waiting, if he's there when i get out of here, i'll go with him. it's time. into the lift. he's there.  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  


table for two. it's been a long journey.  
from the garden -

to the world.  
  
  


ahhhh. the angel's bleeding light, his eyes all caught up with stars. do clean up after yourself. the time spins like silk. lunch turns to dinner. it'll be dark out now - oh. weird. there's stars in the pavement. his hand so lightly, plainly, on crowley's arm and lilting one of his silly gentle songs just like that, such a romantic affair.... he sings something like that under his breath, face turned towards him, tipsy fond mouth teasing and silly, cheeks pink. but gaze so focused, eternal, and soft like wool. the ride back is entirely silent, wonderful and ridiculous, looking out opposite windows but still somehow looking at eachother. absurd. embarrassing. the final notes of the song ringing in their heads. just two free travellers on a nighttime road. it lasts soooo long, and not at all.

angel takes a deep shaky, happy breath as they quietly come to a stop, all "oh Crowley, where to begin, this was the most wonderful evening, I've never felt so carefree, I don't think I shall ever ever forget it, and oh....." but he cuts him off, beckons shakily to the passenger door impatiently, growls "alright, alright, i'll walk to your door, 's how these things go isn't it." and bloody delighted, the angel clambers out.

they walk very slowly. he stalks casually after him feeling like all his bones are rattling. this can't be how terrifying freedom is supposed to feel?? before fussing for his keys, aziraphale is already staring at him, then gazing, actually getting calmer. he could actually invite him in, but right, the idea is that he won't this time. that they part here. right. why is this all so utterly silly??? aziraphale's hand hovers aloft above his arm as if he knows touching him right now would make him jump out of his skin and set the world on fire. crowley cranes his head, staring huge and panicked into that knowing, terribly peaceful and fathomless gaze.

he remembers seeing humans first try this thing they could do, still try, how it is easy, how it is desperate. it's always uniquely horrified him. pressing together where it went in. she had kissed adam's brow, she had kissed the messiah's feet. but they - the throat - the mouth - the way in! what if it came back up and choked him? the fruit, the fruit! trying to bring up something new, looking for the answers, and he asked them! he asked them! what in heaven's name kind of ugly, foul, true things could come up? he is scared. those humans always open their mouths when they do it, beckon it, dig for it! reach into the depths of hell!

>>but it is different.<< aziraphale's eyes, they've got the stars now. they aren't humans. nothing does come up from there. once, eve's lips had touched the skin of the apple. sweet. once, she had kissed the ground of the first grave. cold. even now, mothers kiss their sons goodbye.

yes, they put statues of angels on tombstones. one's there now. he is terrified that this one will see the name engraved there - **L I L I T H** \- but it is too deeply buried. it isn't sought. he's crowley. his limbs aren't working - god took them. unlike an angel - like one - aziraphale doesn't take his soul. this is no human funeral. he doesn't take anything. he strays his hands across his crypt, and presses his soft lips against the headstone, his mouth. just like that. oh, just like that. (and it is good. let it fly.)

he opens his eyes and the angel looks up at him, not down. there's tears in his eyes. RIP. but they shine. deeply, endlessly, joyously. crowley feels breathless. but he doesn't need to breathe. he still has something to give, then. take it. yet, there's something he's still not getting. he frowns - as ever, just more questions. aziraphale's eyes shine on like he knows what.

"good night."  
  
  
  


*

he has no idea what he's doing. he gets there late in the next morning greeted by white roses, having brought red ones himself. they put them in the same vase on aziraphale's counter, both staring at them heavily. the reds get engulfed and the two colours get all tangled. "anyway," crowley says wildly, snapping his eyes away from the absurd sight, "i came to tell you that i am absolutely exhausted. i need to sleep for like, a week. literally speaking."

"of course," aziraphale says at once, voice kind and sad. he holds his hands together in front of his chest, not unusual, but all wringed. "I completely understand. no longer?" his eyes are fixed on him desperately, seeking a promise.

"no longer," he promises. "i'll be back. if anything happens, i, i don't know, but,"  
"there won't," angel insists fiercely, gently. crowley's head rattles, not quite as believing as he was yesterday in the light of victory, of a thousand stars, of the headlights as his car waited just out here as they bent their heads. but the strongest light of all is the reflection of flames on every surface. he can't spend an evening here. he can't go on at all. he is so, so tired, everything from the last many years dragging him down with claws, all his beliefs and fears, lost. nothing is real. he thought he was fine, was jubilant, but he's not, today. he doesn't know why. he doesn't know why.

"can we not just have one evening together," aziraphale whines suddenly, desperately, fingers hovering towards him so faintly. "just forget about them all, I will! or just sleep on my settee, i'll be quiet as a mouse, I'll take care of you. I just want to sit here with you." his voice goes all scrunched in restrained upset at the end.  
"i _can't_ ," crowley croons in alarm. the flames lick the side of his head. "i, i'm going to collapse, i need to sort out my head, i feel sick."  
"th-then, please let me say something, I think it will help, I _have_ to tell you _now_. please. it's been long enough." angel fingers curling open. run - now! but crowley is transfixed, in dread, in hunger. "I, well, how to put it, as the humans say and as you very well _know,_ I've, with you, I've,-"  
"no - no, keep it," crowley moans in horror, closing his open hand with his own urgently, turning around, shaking. "no, it's too much now, no, please."

this is how it is, this is safe, don't take it, don't learn the truth. don't call it that. leave it on the tree. he feels the eyes, god's million eyes in the leaves, waiting, urging him to offer, to take. he KNOWS he heard god's voice then. she was meant to take it. this was the plan. i cannot trust this.

he looks around wildly. yes. flowers, not fruit. these flowers are already dead, there's no knowledge in there, nothing he doesn't know already. take that, with my best wishes, my _very_ best.  
  
  
  
  


he's almost nameless in sleep, because of how a thousand memories stir him up and spin him around in a vicious tempest. he isn't any of the names he's ever given up, any of the roles. he is no mother, no creator. is he not nothing? Are you not nothing? compared to aziraphale, as rigid and true as a sword, who gathers the spoils of time, he seems in comparison fluid. but only in the twisting and shifting, in the escaping of the dead skin. he spirals and escapes. he is never satisfied. he never stops growing. he is always starving. he has been reborn many times. he's getting to the end now. he's so tired. it's enough. and the 7th day was of rest.

when he emerges from sleep, not much has changed, this time. no-one made a new garden without him. he thought it might end up being more of a month than a week, but he feels ok. this is enough. it's enough. he can walk. aziraphale jumps up from where he was sitting. seems he was watching the door, or perhaps some far off place. seeing his calm aspect, the angel too becomes calm. that smile. that tells things. I know who you are. And it's enough.  
  
  
  


we could go somewhere, now. I'm ready, he says. i listen. I'm about done with all this. you could have a garden, and I a study. what do you think?

gardens don't work, i murmur distantly. aziraphale doesn't argue, just smiles and offers his hand. i take it immediately, staring stone-still into his eyes, trying to puzzle out whether he's actually true. that's it? lately, the jokes. the nervous daydreams. what they always wanted to do, if they could. if it was allowed. if they weren't so tired now. but there is no laugh this time. crowley frowns. that's it? don't you have anything more to say? don't you?

"I do have something to say." he's holding his hand, he's touching it. "crowley, listen to me. it's over now. and I'm not going anywhere without you." he holds it against his own chest. his phantom heart beats not like a gong, it rings like bells. but it's really just light underneath, just that. oh, right - we were angels. i had no name, at first. before i had a duty. what were my names? C-creator, Trickster, Mourner, and.... what was the last? damnit, what was it? oh, but i finished up my dues again. if crowley is dead, am i unnamed again? am i going back? is it the true end? is it over? absolution? and just like that, aziraphale whispers reverently, "darling". and I have a name.

when he says nothing, the angel continues in a thick voice, "I can't help doing what they do. or rather - I wish to."  
'i don't want to damn you, i can't, don't take it, don't be fooled by me. i'm not enough, it'll be a mistake to take me. you don't want to know how deep i'm down here. you don't want to know! don't take it!"  
'I'm not taking something from you. I'm offering you it,' he continues quietly. 'I have it, for you. I know what it is. I know what you mean. I learnt it from them. I brought it all this way. it's for you, and no other. ever. I do not even fall in - I leapt. I walk towards you."

it had been her tree. the seeds had spread throughout the land, and now sprouted, died, reborn, they returned to her once more.  
  


it has returned to him.

he grasps his shoulders, stares wide into those eyes, which are calm, bright, spinning. he stares at his throat, lays his face against it. it bobs nervously against his cheek, but he is let to be there. he listens, he feels it, he kisses it. someone is trembling. "do you want to know the truth?" the apple bobs with the voice. it bobs in the wind.

"do you want to know?"

will you go with this one?  
  


and I go with him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!
> 
> yes, crowley was literally the first woman, the first trans person (true gender Unknown), lilith, mary magdalene, invented romantic love and autism, etc
> 
> please let me know if you liked it! 🐍 i only hope someone did! i know it's probably crawley not crawly i just like crawly. and yeah i decided that the animal-hat demons are made by other demons, not fallen angels themselves. doesn't necessary mean that like hastur or whoever is crowley's spawn though. :') anyway bye


End file.
